


behold my soul's true face

by AlexSeanchai (EllieMurasaki)



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, F/M, Misses Clause Challenge, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8749480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/AlexSeanchai
Summary: The castle receives a visitor.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ancarett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancarett/gifts).



> The opening quote is from Alexander Pope's translation of the _Odyssey_ , and rest assured it doesn't count toward the thousand-word minimum.
> 
> Thank you to [redacted] for title help and [redacted] for beta work!

_"With that she parted: in her potent hand_  
_She bore the virtue of the magic wand._  
_Then, hastening to the sties, set wide the door,_  
_Urged forth, and drove the bristly herd before;_  
_Unwieldy, out they rush'd with general cry,_  
_Enormous beasts, dishonest to the eye._  
_Now touch'd by counter-charms they change again,_  
_And stand majestic, and recall'd to men._  
_Those hairs of late that bristled every part,_  
_Fall off, miraculous effect of art!_  
_Till all the form in full proportion rise,_  
_More young, more large, more graceful to my eyes._  
_They saw, they knew me, and with eager pace_  
_Clung to their master in a long embrace:_  
_Sad, pleasing sight! with tears each eye ran o'er,_  
_And sobs of joy re-echoed through the bower;_  
_E'en Circe wept, her adamantine heart_  
_Felt pity enter, and sustain'd her part._

 

Belle looked up at the sound of a knock on the library door, distinctly heard over the rustling outside the windows of the evening wind on snow. "Come in," she called.

Chip popped through the door. "We have a guest!"

Belle evaluated his demeanor: his tone sounded entirely excited, but his expression looked almost dismal. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, no," Chip said—was he lying? "She's just an old woman, asking for shelter for a night."

Belle nodded. "If you're asking permission? Of course she can stay, as long as she needs to."

Chip brightened, but still there was something worrisome in his face. "Come on and meet her!"

Belle set a bookmark in her book, closed it, and, standing, picked up her skirts to hurry after Chip to the entrance hall.

The old woman was sitting in the grand chair by the fire; Mrs. Potts was pouring her tea. "Belle!" said Mrs. Potts with audible relief.

"Thank you, Mrs. Potts," said Belle. "And Chip." She came around to have a good look at the old woman. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Grandmother," she said. "My name is Belle; I am the mistress of this castle. I understand you need a place to stay for the night?"

"Yes, milady," said the old woman. "Just a night, and I will be on my way in the morning."

"Please understand that you are welcome for as long as you need," Belle said. "I'm sure my husband would agree. Adam isn't here tonight—he has business in the village—but I am sure he would welcome you as I do."

The old woman smiled.

Out of the corner of her eye, Belle saw Mrs. Potts cringe. Belle glanced that way and pointedly raised her eyebrows. Mrs. Potts shook her head.

"Please," Belle continued, settling herself on the floor near the fireplace, looking up at the old woman, "tell us your name, and perhaps some of your story."

"Call me Clarisse," said the old woman. "My granddaughter, Émilie, who lives many miles east of here—she is with child, and near her time. I hope to be there for her, and give her and the infant strength."

"I wish them both good health," said Belle.

Clarisse nodded. "I thank you." She paused and took a sip of her tea. "If there is anything I may offer you and your household, for your kindness," she said, "you have only to name it."

"Oh, the pleasure of your company is quite enough, Grandmother Clarisse," Belle said, cheerful. "But—I have a small project," she explained, "writing down the stories of the people of this area. I would be honored if you would tell me some of your stories, so that I can write them down and share them."

Clarisse glanced at Chip, still hovering by the doorway. "Not all of my stories are fit for young ears," she said.

"Chip?" Belle said. "Would you please run and get my writing supplies, and then go amuse yourself somewhere else?"

"Yes, Belle!" And Chip bolted.

Belle glanced up at Mrs. Potts, who seemed unusually pale and who, for lack of anything to do now the tea was poured, was standing out of the way wringing her hands. "Is something wrong, Mrs. Potts?" she asked.

"Nothing, dear," said Mrs. Potts. "Nothing at all."

"You look nervous," Belle said.

"—Please, dear, not in front of our guest."

Clarisse was listening with no change of expression.

"Later, then," Belle decided, the obligations of hospitality and her curiosity about Clarisse winning for the moment over her curiosity about the Pottses' odd behavior. "But you will tell me what's wrong, won't you?"

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Potts, and looking around, seated herself in the chair that was usually Belle's.

Chip darted in with Belle's pen and ink and journal, set them down on the floor beside Belle, and silently dashed right back out again, the door closing behind him with a thud.

"There," said Belle, once she was organized. "Grandmother Clarisse, would you tell me a story?"

"My grandmother, my mother's mother Honorine," began Grandmother Clarisse, and Belle began to write, as fast as Clarisse spoke. As had happened before when copying down other stories, Belle didn't pause to try to understand the story, only to make sure she conveyed it onto the paper. She would be able to comprehend it better reading it later, anyway. Mrs. Potts listened to it all without making a sound.

The door to the room burst open. Adam stood there, wild-eyed. Belle jolted. "Adam!"

"Belle," Adam said, and Belle was reminded of the Beast fighting with wolves to save her life. "Mrs. Potts," he added, "is everything all right? Chip didn't say much—"

"Adam," Belle said firmly before Mrs. Potts could say anything, "please meet our guest for the night, Grandmother Clarisse. She's traveling to see her granddaughter Émilie, who is going to have a baby soon. Grandmother Clarisse, this is my husband, Adam."

"It's all right, Master," said Mrs. Potts. "I think."

"That's reassuring," muttered Adam in a tone that suggested it actually wasn't. He took a deep breath and, a little calmer, came over to Clarisse and Belle. Careful not to step on Belle's writing supplies, he swept Clarisse a courtly bow. "Enchanté, madame," he said. "Be welcome in our home."

Clarisse smiled. "Thank you, good sir," she said.

Belle glanced over her writing, shaking out her hand, which was beginning to cramp. Willow bark and pennyroyal and valerian and a prayer to Artemis Orsilokhia, that is, Artemis the Helper of Childbirth— "You are a midwife, Grandmother Clarisse?" she asked.

"You understand why my granddaughter needs me," Clarisse answered.

"Yes," Belle said. "If you are tired, I'm sure Mrs. Potts would be glad to bring you to a guest room?"

"I think I would like to warm my old bones by the fire a little longer," said Clarisse. "But do go speak to your handsome husband, and ask him why he's so agitated."

"I shall," said Belle. "Please, let us know if you need anything." She gathered up her pen and ink and journal and rose, then followed Adam out of the room.

Adam shut the door on Clarisse and Mrs. Potts with a soft click, then seized Belle by the shoulders. "You're all right?" he demanded quietly. "Nothing's—happened?"

"What has got all of you so upset?" Belle asked.

"You don't know," Adam realized. "No one's told you how we were cursed to begin with."

"It...never seemed important to ask," Belle said.

"That might just be an ordinary old woman," Adam told her. "But it might be another face of that same enchantress. The one who I turned away on a winter night like this, because she was old and ugly and all she offered in exchange for hospitality was a rose in bloom."

Belle stared at him.

A long moment later, she blew out a breath. "Well, if Grandmother Clarisse is an enchantress looking for inhospitable people to curse, I think we're safe," she said briskly, but quietly, mindful of the guest just the other side of the door. "I don't think she's anything but what she looks like, though."

Adam pulled Belle close and held on tight. "Thank you," he whispered.

Inside the room, looking at the flames, Circe smiled.


End file.
